


Strands of Memory

by concupiscentCalico



Series: Fabric of the Future [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: (im not), Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst with a smidgen of strangulation, Doomed Timelines, Earth C (Homestuck), Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, [S] Game Over, extremely self-indulgent pain and porn, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 14:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17408489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concupiscentCalico/pseuds/concupiscentCalico
Summary: At first you think it must just be a trick of the morning light, but then you press two fingers to the skin and a warm muddled feeling pools under your touch before moving up your throat and across your face.There is a thin band of reddened flesh running right the way around, coming just under your Adam's apple in the front. The sensation of not-quite-pain tells you that it's something akin to a wound, albeit one that's almost completely healed over.After the final battle, when all the loose ends are tied together, what becomes of the strings?Your name is Dirk Strider, and you're beginning to remember.Post-canon, post-Masterpiece.





	Strands of Memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lasciviousWildheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasciviousWildheart/gifts).



> This fic is set loosely within the same post-canon as lasciviousWildheart's ['Infinity Mechanism'](https://archiveofourown.org/series/534223%22) series. Big thanks to LW for letting me indulge myself (and him) with this, and also to gamblignant8 for beta-ing. Your keen eyes have seen into my soul, and I appreciate it.

_Everything was light when you came through that door, and yet everything was heavy. You weren't sure you quite caught what Terezi or Karkat or Kanaya were saying at the time, something about alternate selves and the Alpha timeline you think. Honestly, fuck knows. You were too souped up on yourself and your friends to pay much attention. Caught in the weird, headache-y afterglow of...whatever batshit shenanigan you all just burrowed the fuck down in together._

_You quipped with the others, laughter bubbling up effortlessly on the long journey back down the winding thread that Calliope had spun out for you all to follow. Happiness was coming easily, despite the discomfort. The sensation in your chest and in your head wasn’t painful exactly, but it certainly kept you out of things somewhat. Those hours feel almost like a half-remembered dream now. But you distinctly recall the sensation of a hundred invisible strings tugging at your heart from somewhere out of reach, places beyond sight._

_It reminded you somewhat of what it felt like to rip a soul from its body. You would never have talked about this with the others since it was such an important weapon in your arsenal—couldn’t afford to let anyone have second thoughts about you using it in the final battle against paradox space’s most petulant brat, after all. But honestly it hurt like shit, doing that to someone. If you had to describe it, you'd say that it was more like tethering your own soul to theirs and acting as a counterweight, carefully managing tension and torque to lever them out. You could always feel yourself buckling, ready to break but never quite snapping._

_You supposed that it was a way of weaponizing the fundamental push and pull at the centre of your splintered existence. Certainly it was a better use for it than anything else it had put you through. And in those moments after the end you felt every ounce of that tension, the strings holding you together almost humming in your chest with every Heart beat._

_It took a few moments, when you all landed back on Earth, for the enormity of what you'd done to really hit. Having had your victory lap of paradox space already, nobody was really talking all that much. Perhaps everyone was still reeling somewhat from whatever peculiar sensation was still coursing through you. After a few moments of quiet milling around, everyone began to splinter off in smaller groups, most people heading home for a well earned rest. Dave was still carrying Karkat, you noticed, and it wasn't clear who seemed to be happier about that, despite objections to the contrary. Rose and Kanaya said their goodbyes and gracefully bowed out, an exhausted relief on both their faces. Jane and Roxy raced off to find Calliope as soon as you got back, and John and Jade seemingly tagged along leaving you and Jake standing together._

_You looked at each other for a long time, not saying anything, before something in the air changed and you both turned in unison to walk back towards the evening light of Can Town._

* * *

 

You don't know when you first noticed it, which is odd for you. Usually your appearance is something which you keep on complete lock-down, fastidiousness and fussiness and fitful fretting all in equal measure. Jake finds it so irritating sometimes, the lengths you'll go to when finding the perfect angle in which to set your hair, or clothes. Especially on those delicious occasions when he's entertaining plans to undo all that hard work.

One time you spent almost an hour in the bathroom alone on the night of a date, trying to get the details just right. Half of that time was because you accidentally soaked your shirt through, and messed yourself up again in the process of getting it off. (He likes to mess you up in the process getting you off.) (And in the end it wasn't worth the trouble, because you ended up late for your engagement and the two of you said to hell with it and didn't show, and he seemed to take enormous pleasure in screwing your shirt up between his fingers as he fucked you against a door frame instead.)

And but so it's more than a little surprising when, one morning, you finally become aware of it. You are standing in front of the bathroom sink, naked except for a towel wrapped snugly over your hips. Your nails are clean, your teeth freshly minted, and the last of the night's dreams have finally been swept out of the corners of your tired eyes. You came once in the shower, quickly and forcefully, pressing your face against the cool tiles and humming in contentment. Now your routine is almost finished, with just the hair left to deal with. You’ve been idly swilling water around in your mouth, lazily checking yourself out in the mirror without really thinking about it. (Didn’t Jake once mention having another Dirk he used to talk to?)

You spit, and then pull on your shirt.

As you lift your hands to your scalp to arrange the usual topiary, your eyes skirt across your neck. At first you think it must just be a trick of the morning light, but then you press two fingers to the skin and a warm muddled feeling pools under your touch before moving up your throat and across your face.

There is a thin band of reddened flesh running right the way around, coming just under your Adam's apple in the front. The sensation of not-quite-pain tells you that it's something akin to a wound, albeit one that's almost completely healed over. That thought doesn't sit quite right—you haven't done any roughhousing for a few days at least, and it's not like anyone has been strangling you recently. That you know of, anyway.

It's quite faint, which is probably why you missed it initially, but as you stand there tentatively feeling its circumference you notice the colour flare up more angrily. Passionately. Now it looks almost like a choker. Rose's voice swims up out of the depths of your subconscious to offer a scathing witticism about jacking her aesthetic or some shit and the thought makes you smirk. Now there's an idea for a rainy afternoon. The muggy feeling in your head has also grown more intense, and you begin to sway slightly as your sense of balance gets somewhat sloshy. It feels like there's something pressing into your skull from both sides, a steady yet constant pressure.

But then as you stand there in silence for a minute or so the mark, along with the hot fuzzy feeling in your head, begins to fade. It dims slowly, returning to more or less the same unobtrusive shade that it had before, just shy of your natural skin tone, so close that it's barely noticeable at all.

Huh. You decide to leave it alone for now, in the interest of not irritating it. It might be some kind of bizarre rash or infection, although it doesn’t look or feel like anything you’ve encountered before. Whatever. Maybe you’ll ask Jane’s opinion the next time you see her.

You manage to persuade your hair into a shape that somewhat approximates its usual flair. In spite of all evidence to the contrary, you’ve been making strides (ugh) to be less of an insufferable perfectionist. Trying to keep it to perfectly sufferable levels, instead. Glancing at your phone on the way out, you notice with a small sense of personal victory that it’s taken you only (only!) an additional twenty minutes between towelling off and leaving the bathroom entirely. You’re improving, if nothing else.

There's a message from Rose open in the chat client. Its arrival is what prompted you to cut short your plans of staying in bed and bro-cuddling for a few hours, which you try not to feel a tinge of resentment for. That's what you get for sleeping in, you suppose.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] \--

TT: Dearest father, we have a little conundrum on our hands.  
TT: A riddle draped in a mystery wrapped in the usual sburban shroudwear.  
TT: Sburb_Cache.jpg  
TT: Terezi wanted to take the self-portrait, so you'll have to excuse the blurriness: she insisted on licking the camera lens beforehand. Also Vriska is in the shot, so naturally she had to be front and center, somewhat defeating the purpose of the picture in the first place.  
TT: You should be able to make out the outline of the cache behind the layers of trollish slobber though. I've included the location information along with the photo so you'll be able to find us.  
TT: If the two of you can pry yourselves away from whatever passes for romantic bliss over there.  
TT: We've not had any luck so far between the four of us. Light powers, spacial distortions, fraymotifs, you name it and we've crumpled it into a ball and thrown it wastebasket-ward in disgust.   
TT: I've had to forbid the fluorite octet from making an appearance--one wrong move and we'd all be dealing with the Marquise for several hours. And I prefer to do that at home.  
TT: Or worse, we could end up sporting an eclectic assortment of silly headgear.   
TT: Kanaya floated the idea of trying her best lipstick, but in all candor it's a family heirloom and we can't risk it being broken. Even if we *can* just alchemize another chainsaw.  
TT: Calliope, Jane and Roxy are busying themselves with each other, as it very much were. John, Dave and Karkat are doing lord only knows what, although something tells me it could hardly be considered something for polite company. Jade is with Davepeta and certain other parties who shall remain nameless.  
TT: Not to belabor the point Dirk, but in the wisest words ever spouted by an unfathomably stupid wizard,  
TT: Shit is locked the fuck down in so many ways I don't know what to say any more.  
TT: Get over here.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] \--

 

You smile, despite yourself. Exchanging pleasantries by way of long, rambling soliloquies when nobody else is listening is most definitely a family trait. Sometimes you wonder why the four of you don't just resort to printing your messages out and mailing them the old fashioned way—at least then the overblown dramatic overtures would be somewhat stylistically appropriate. And it would give that mail-obsessed carapacian something to do.

Jake doesn’t notice you come down the hallway immediately—you tend not to make much noise when barefoot at the worst of times, and since you gained the power of flight it’s become almost trivial to minimize the sound of your footfalls when needed. You didn’t really even think about doing it all that much if you’re honest—being as quiet as possible was something you tended to do even back in the 25th Century. You’d pad around the little square of your lonely apartment block walking on the balls of your feet, and you’d tell yourself it was part of some training regimen or whatever, but in reality you just couldn’t bear to break the silence half the time. Sometimes you think it’s a miracle you ever learned how to talk in the first place.

He’s sitting, or rather slouching, draped over one of the plush chairs you alchemized and put in the main living space of your can. It was something that Dave gave you the captchalogue code for a while back, apparently it was made from an old heirloom of his. You splashed out a little making a whole a shit ton of them and strew them about the rest of your home, so now there are just a bunch of multicolored foam asses just kind of, jutting out and impudent or whatever every which way you turn. It’s for humorous effect and ironic purposes, of course, but they’re also just fucking *comfy*. And besides, the sight of Jake snuggling cozily all up in one never gets old. Yeah, you guess you'd say that Jake nestling his way into your ass is something you could never tire of.

His recently conjured copy of Detective Pony is open against his legs, sitting rather like a holy book would do on a lectern. There's something about that thought that you quite enjoy, the idea of your words resting with reverence on top of those gorgeous thighs. Sacred profanities of friendship borne by bronze and marble. He's still wrestling with the book, for some reason, even though he's admitted on more than one occasion that he doesn't really get what you were going for. It's nice that he's interested, though. Perhaps it just means he thinks highly of you. Perhaps.

While he's distracted you have the opportunity to appreciate him for a while, with the early afternoon sunlight streaming in through one of the openings in the side of your giant can. It's lighting his black hair from behind in a pleasant way, the warm beams seeming to darken to the deep amber of freshly brewed tea and washing around his head like a corona. He's almost bathing in it. The light kisses his nose and cheeks and eyelashes too, before glancing off his glasses and spraying outward across the room to dance as white fireflies on the opposite wall. Almost like it enjoyed the experience. You don't suppose you can blame it.

You decide on what feels like a polite length of time to admire his face, before loosening your self control just enough to let your eyes wander a little. They drift from his hair and nose and cheeks to his jaw and chin, skating along his jawline, misted with stubble, before leaping off and down across his clavicle. His shirt is scrunched up in such a way that you can just make out the slightest inkling of hair on his chest. Not wanting to migrate south too soon, you reign yourself in slightly and dance back up and sideways to his shoulder, and as you do the memory of gripping it tightly as he held you gently wells up in your brain. Biting, grasping, gasping moaning *squeezing*—that's a shoulder you know very well. (Maybe it's the strange experience you just had in the bathroom, but you can feel the warmth which has been steeping in the room since this morning gradually soak into your body. As you fondly watch him from a distance it begins to pool into deeper and deeper puddles, in your stomach, your legs, your chest, your groin.)

There are things inside you which start to slowly tighten as your attention flows downward in earnest now, your gaze turning to honey that clings tight to him and spills across his arms, his elbows, his wrists; finally you reach his hands and oh, oh, these are fingers that have held you tight, felt every inch of your back and stomach and legs, these are palms that have pressed and cupped and nails which rake and bite and now it's getting too warm in here as you feel yourself dripping from his fingertips down to that place where the shirt is beginning to ride upwards and you can strain to make out a coy trail of black which winks and teases at things beyond the boundary of his shorts; and then in one long delicious motion of your eyes you turn to wet and spit and feel yourself _lick_ him all the way back up, hugging his hips and his stomach and his chest and the curves of his neck and the corners of his mouth; all before teetering on the edge of his green green eyes and falling inward, and now you're swimming in an ocean of green and black which opens wide as if to swallow you whole, and —

JAKE: Dirk?

A blink, a breath, and you realize he's looking at you. Oops.

JAKE: You er, been standing there long?  
JAKE: You looked as though you were a thousand leagues from nowhere or something!  
JAKE: I wasnt expecting to see you out of the ol ablution chamber for another ten minutes at the barest of minimums.  
JAKE: Not that i mind at all since ive been bashing my head against this old thing for a while now and could probably do with a good distraction or dare i say DIVERSION or some such.  
JAKE: Honestly i dont know how you come up with some of this stuff i really dont, ripsnorter after ribtickler though im sure it is.  
JAKE: But seriously dirk why are you standing there with your mouth open like a barn door after the mare has bolted?  
DIRK: ...  
JAKE: ......  
DIRK: Ugh, sorry.

You fold that train of thought back in on itself with a sigh, tucking it away for later.

* * *

 

JAKE: Im sorry dirk but honestly i just dont see it!  
JAKE: The two of them are the most solid of bros, lets put that fact squarely on the table where we can both get a goosey gander at it.   
JAKE: But honestly i think youre just reading too much into the dynamic!  
JAKE: Theres nothing more to their relationship and thats just the way the crumble collapses im afraid.  
JAKE: Its all in the film dirk, its all in the film.  
DIRK: Listen dude I know bro-hood okay.  
DIRK: I’ve written several non-trivial treatises on the subject and we both know that the thesis defence would have been over before it started.  
DIRK: And if any chartered academic institution had remained standing in the watery apocalypse of the 25th Century you’d now be looking at the proud owner of multiple doctorates.  
JAKE: /EYE ROLL  
DIRK: I’ve told you a thousand times, Frodo and Samwise are totally boning 24 fucking 7 on the way to Mordor, I don’t know how this isn’t completely fucking obvious to you.  
DIRK: Frodo wanted to destroy his ring solo and Sam was having none of it.  
DIRK: Pun 100% intended.  
JAKE: And *ive* told *you* a thousand THOUSAND times dirk that theres just no way sam would have betrayed the thought of his dearest love rosie cotton!!!  
DIRK: Ugh, that shit was tacked on and blows and you know it.  
DIRK: You know it, and you know that I know that you kind of suspect that I know that you know it.  
JAKE: UUUUUUUUUGHHHHHH  
DIRK: Honestly dude the books make it way more obvious but come on.  
DIRK: Even in the film version it’s plainer than a white buttered loaf vanilla ice cream sandwich.  
JAKE: Heavens to murgatroyd dirk now youre not making even the faintest lick of sense and *you* know it.  
JAKE: Ice cream sandwiches arent even made of bread!  
JAKE: Although to be frank as cheese and crackers ive never had one myself.  
DIRK: Yeah me neither, you think the Batterwitch was handing out sundaes while laying waste to the planet?  
DIRK: But seriously the films should just be called The Lord of the Rings: Frodo and Sam’s Orgasmic Adventure to the Cracks of Doom.  
JAKE: Pun int—  
DIRK: Pun one million percentage points fucking intended.

There’s something about that bit of shameless filth that breaks the tension of the fake argument you’ve been having for the past twenty minutes; Jake’s face seems to almost balloon out and then burst with laughter, and he doubles over into a forward somersault cackling all the way around. You allow yourself a chuckle—god, GOD, it’s satisfying to make him laugh like this. You never got the full effect when, all those years ago, you’d make quip after quip at him through Pesterchum, all part of that excruciating dance of wanting him to like you, needing him to find you funny. Something about it makes it seem like all those years of waiting were worth it. And they were, you have to remind yourself. Fuck it, they were.

You're both flying north, away from Can Town and towards the equator. You don't have Kanaya or Dave with you, or Jade or Aradia for that matter, so the trip is going to take the two of you a little longer than you'd have liked. But at least you can't complain about the company. Your hands are entwined in the space between you as if you're buddies on a school trip—it's not strictly necessary, since there's no reason to fear falling or getting lost or whatever, but in a way it's the fact that it *isn't* necessary that you like so much about it. You could be doing anything with those hands, building or breaking or fighting, but instead you have his in yours, tying you together as the world spins slowly underneath you.

Jake finally regains his composure after doing a few more rotations in mid-air before wiping a tear from behind his glasses and coughing loudly.

JAKE: So.  
JAKE: Whats the order of business for the days excursions?  
JAKE: I remember you mumbling something pertaining to a sburban cache or some such but truth be told i didnt quite catch the half of it.  
JAKE: You know me sometimes i have a devil of a time concentrating when something else is steaming in the old think pan.  
DIRK: Oh, well in that case you caught the entirety of it.  
DIRK: Didn't have much else to say about it other than that.  
DIRK: My dear, sweet, precious daughter messaged me a few hours ago to let us know that another one had popped up out of nowhere like a boner in a strip club.  
DIRK: She doesn't have any idea what's inside but then that's how it usually goes.  
DIRK: They've tried all the usual tricks, all the usual fraymotifs besides ours, and nothing seems to be making a scratch in it.  
DIRK: Shit's tighter than the lid on a centuries-old jar of kraft mayo.  
DIRK: Anyway, what were you distacted by in the first place?  
DIRK: It was only this morning that we talked about it and you didn't seem to have anything going on at the time.  
JAKE: Oh, well er...  
JAKE: Well dirk you know how it is.  
DIRK: Alright then, keep your secrets.  
JAKE: (Hehe.)  
DIRK: I'm sure there was a perfectly good reason for you not to be heeding my nigh infinite fucking wisdom when I was dropping that scoop like it was hotter than a wasabi volcano.  
JAKE: ...  
JAKE: Well its actually pretty darn stupid now that you mention it.  
JAKE: I think i was just mulling over...  
DIRK: ...?  
JAKE: Some things.  
DIRK: Some things.  
JAKE: Yeah.

There's something about his avoidance of the topic which has you worried, but you fight the urge to press him any more about it. You've had a few ups and downs in the weeks since the final battle—it hasn't been entirely plain sailing, but things are going well between you. More than well, actually. You've been dealing with the problems, when they crop up, as a team. The last thing you need is to add more tension into the mix, not when you've been getting better at taking things as they come. (Taking him as he comes. Taking him when he comes. *Fuck*.)

He'll tell you when he's good and ready.

For now he seems content to idly swing your arms together, chuckling a little to himself at the sight. You don't know if you could ever tire of hearing that laugh. He pulls back and forth, rocking the pair of you as you fly like children on a swing, and suddenly he's pulling your arm up over your head and spinning you around. Sburban enigma be damned, you guess. It’s time to get your motherfucking groove on.

You do a backwards fucking pirouette in midair before your arm extends and locks into place, and then you tug him towards you and catch his other hand in yours. Facing each other now, you both roll your arms over your heads and spin, and then pull down so you end up lying horizontal looking up at the sky with both feet pointed outward. You kick one way and he kicks the other way and now you're orbiting each other, your combined mass whipping around like a carousel. You can't help but break into a smile, and he's whooping like an idiot, and as you crane your neck to look up at him the world is a blur and he's the only thing still in focus; and then as if responding to some change in the music you suddenly break apart, rocketing out with the momentum before twirling back around to face each other, totally in sync.

His glasses are wonky, your hair is windswept, but for a moment you're just two gods, in love, dancing and laughing in the light of afternoon, a thousand feet off the ground.

He's beaming, the warmth of his smile radiating out from him as the sun in the western sky shines from behind his head. Not for the first time you think about how brightly he burns in your eyes. It’s part of his whole deal, but sometimes when he looks at you it’s like it fills up parts of you that you didn’t even know were there, light spilling through cracks and around corners and tingling at the ends of your hair. A shining thing. It makes you feel like you could do anything, be anything—you wonder if it’s what Hope feels like to him.

God you're so _fucking_ gay.

Eventually his gravity draws you back. You drift slowly towards each other again, almost coy this time—what was initially a lively beat becomes a gentle waltz, then dissipates altogether. He sidles up to you, both of you sling an arm around a shoulder, and just float like that for a while.

JAKE: Dirk?  
DIRK: Hmm?  
JAKE: ...

(He looks at you with those eyes and you realize for the first time that his was the first green you ever knew. His eyes weren't like the trees or the grass, no. His eyes _were_ green, the source of all green, green in its purest form; green as a fountain of life that the ferns and the flowers only imitate, a hue that they dressed themselves in as if with reverence for him. And you wonder whether perhaps for the rest of your long life it will always be so, that the hills and valleys will forever be in _his_ shade, for it was in his words and his eyes that you understood green for the very first time, in a world full of nothing but a brackish, briny sea.)

JAKE: I want to kiss you, if thats alright.

He blinks, slowly. Looking straight into your eyes. Warmth prickles in your cheeks, settles in your stomach, and there's a dull ache which seems to blossom then, blooming out from your bones and joints. The force of your want for him tugging at you, gentle but insistent.

DIRK: As you wish.

His smile nearly kills you in an instant. You feel yourself begin to fizz, a tingling sensation that bubbles up and out of you in little clusters. You spiral inwards together and almost fuse, like you're being poured into a mould that your bodies have always known. He brings one hand to cup your face while you gently tug a corner of his shirt with a thumb and forefinger, and again you feel that urge to melt into his palm: to let yourself foam and slosh against the sides of him as he holds you like this.

And he kisses you.

 

> _You expected to lose consciousness immediately. That’s what you had to tell yourself in order to go through with it, even though you and the AR both knew that you didn’t have any choice left in the matter. And yes, it didn’t last long — the pain was only temporary. But in those last few hazy moments you could see him. He was confused, terrified, disgusted, all at once. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t do anything except think, for those brief few fractions of a second before the darkness engulfed you. And with it you did what you had done for so, so long, all those endless nights of waiting: you reached for him without limbs, cried to him in a voice with no air to give it sound. You offered yourself and your life up to him with a silent, desperate plea: hold me. Hold me, please. Take me up in those arms that I have so long dreamt of, take this broken part of me and breathe something new into it. Please, Jake. Please._

DIRK: A-ah, fuck.

That heat and haze from earlier in the afternoon, which previously seemed to lap at you like gentle ripples on a beach, now washes over you completely. You heart feels as though it's about to burst out of your chest, straining and hammering against your ribs; you can't breathe, you realize, and now static and stars are popping in and out of sight at the corners of your vision, the sky beginning to bruise itself with purple and red and orange and pink; your lungs are heavy and burning like they're filling up with foam and ash and dust, and then all at once your whole body goes numb and you drop like a stone.

JAKE: DIRK!!!  
JAKE: DIRK!!!!!!!

From somewhere, the faint feathered hum of a string pulled taught.

* * *

 

_You're hurtling through darkness. Mere hours ago you were displaced from the very center of existence, of action, and you've been desperately clawing your way back ever since. You're a few minutes away from the Veil you reckon, although it's a little hard to get a measure on distances in the Furthest Ring even this close to the Incipisphere. The equine abomination that calls himself your sprite has been messaging you almost frantically for the past several minutes, but you've dismissed the windows without reading them because honestly, fuck that guy. Besides, you have other more urgent things on your mind than whatever literal horse's shit comes out of that disgusting mouth._

_You can't believe you let yourself get tricked so easily. You had just god tiered, and the last few flames of potential were ghosting off your legs and arms. She was waiting for you. Her Imperious Condescension, teeth razor sharp and heels just as pointed, hair billowing hungrily and eyes crackling with power. And in that moment you suddenly understood the depth that her manipulation and power had run. Everything, every single thing that you had suffered and known, from those first infantile moments of consciousness clinging to life in a distant ocean to your newfound divinity; all of it was hers, and every moment in between._

_Her grin was dripping with malice, yes, but also pride. She had you right where she wanted, where she'd been leading you all this time, and what's more she knew that you understood. Maybe she could feel it in your mind somehow. She knew that in being here to greet you she'd destroyed the last shred of hope that you had; a delusion that you might still have even a cursory grip on things; a thought that you'd been frantically clinging to despite everything over the last few months; in the moments spent waiting, aching for a response, an acknowledgement, an explanation, a courtesy._

_It was like she was holding up a mirror to you just to reveal the puppet strings._

_And because you understood that there was nothing else you could do, you did the only thing that you could. At least, if she was here, then you could hurt her; at least you could charge forwards, enact some small degree of revenge for what she had inflicted on everyone you'd ever loved. And then she took even that from you._

_A flash of green, a blow to the head, the taste of blood. Then silence._

_And so you flew, onwards and inwards. You ran every possibility over in your head in the meantime—game plans, courses of action, potential means of attack, of escape, of *something*. It's all you could do to avoid thinking about what might have happened in the mean time, but at some point your self control collapsed._

_You were talking to Jane just before it happened, and now you have no idea what could have happened to her. All you got was that message which read "CEASE REPRODUCTION"—which you didn't even have the heart to make a quip about—and whatever bullshit Arquiusprite had to say on the matter before you got hit with...whatever this trash is that's clogging up your chat window. And your lungs._

_You tried to get your thoughts back on track and begin strategizing, but the damage was done and you couldn't help but revisit that moment over and over again. Roxy was right *there*, and you could hardly bear to look at her. And she could be dead for all you know, not that it would make much sense—but then again when has anything up until now made the slightest bit of fucking sense. This whole day, no, this entire session, your complete wretched *fucking* life has been nothing but one long con in the scheme of an evil alien sea witch, and the last time you saw your bo— (no) your best friend, was when you were angry and apathetic and just wanted to wipe that repulsive grin off of his candy-coated face._

_And fuck it, since you were thinking about him now—you haven't had a real conversation with Jake English in days, the last thing he saw of you was when you were chewing him out like tomorrow wasn't a thing, and now he could be dead, double dead or worse and you have no possible way of knowing either way._

_You've spend nearly four hours on this bullshit, running through every horrific possibility over and over again, trying to resist the urge and then failing miserably—all the while battling against the ever-thickening waves of static and candy dust that's now swirling around you and sticking to your glasses and getting down your throat._

_You finally pass through the ring of meteors out by Derse, weaving through the glitches and the debris which is all that's left of your moon. Skaia is now a clear blue marble in the distance, only another hour or so away. There are planets here that you've never seen before. In the distance you see Prospit, or what's left of it: a gaping hole has been punched into it and shards of gold are scattering slowly through the Medium._

_You barely have enough time to take all of this in before everything collapses._

_You see two beams of rippling energy fire off into the void, red and blue, coming from somewhere on one of the new planets. A green-and-blue one. You see the Batterwitch's ship parked in the sky above and immediately change course, but before you can even register what's happening you feel a wave of force ripple past you at impossible speed. Your head whips around just in time to see—_

_A chalk-white planet is hurtling through the Incipisphere, rolling through the black like an impossibly massive bowling ball. In an instant it has crashed into the blue-green planet below, destroying the red ship and sending an enormous seismic shock-wave outward. You feel it in your bones and clap both hands to your ears: the noise is louder than you can bear, threatening to split your skull in two. Before you have time to even begin to understand what's the fuck's going on, another pulse echoes out through space and you can feel the void itself begin to buckle under the sheer psychic strain as you see another two planets come barrelling into sight fast as cannonballs. One of them you don't recognize, but the other...fuck. That's *Jane's* planet. As if each were possessed with bloodlust and rage the two of them collide; their crusts crack and heave and moan with an almighty sound; the blast from the impact catches the other two planets which now seem to have fused and sets them convolving, spraying rubble and molten rock in every direction._

_You can't process this at all. You can't do anything._

_Two more quick energy blasts blaze by your ears and you barely manage to dodge out of the way. Debris, shattered buildings, a random sprawling mess of assorted objects—everything is being whipped up in the mayhem, and all the while this black and gray pixellated garbage is phasing in, out, and back in again. Long tongues of flame and lava whip out into the emptiness, red and orange tendrils each a mile long, scorching serpents which undulate with the detritus as though caught by some terrible ocean current._

_You feel the space around you bulge as if to burst, and with this final wave of force your heart almost stops completely—a giant purple X blisters into view, a monstrous, demonic pinwheel, and you can only hang in the air, mouth open wide in horror, as Jake's planet collides with yours._

_And in that moment, you know that he's gone._

_It's about the only thing you know at all._

* * *

 

JAKE: Dirk?

You blink awake. A cool, gray ceiling blinks back.

You are lying on your bed, back in your can. From the color of the light you surmise that it's early evening. You've been unconscious for an hour at most, then. Someone removed your glasses in the meantime.

You're not in pain, but your body feels extremely heavy, like something is pressing hard into your chest. You breathe slowly, in and out. Whatever was clogging your airways earlier seems to have completely vanished, and the air rushes out of you in a long, slow sigh.

DIRK: You'll be pleased to know that you can cancel any speculative funeral arrangements you might have seen fit to set in motion.  
DIRK: If not out of heartfelt concern then at least because it'll save you the inconvenience.  
DIRK: You can go and tell the assembled mourning masses to put away their pocket handkerchiefs, riddled though they must be with snot and bitter tears alike.  
DIRK: Or at least offer to put them in with our laundry load tomorrow.  
DIRK: Oh, and you can tell Dave--  
JAKE: What the hell happened dirk?

You loll your head to one side, and see that Jake is sitting on the bed beside you, looking down at you with a concerned expression. Oh fuck. He looks like he was really worried about you. You immediately feel a sting of guilt at your reflexive reversion to wit in the face of everything. You'd been getting better at that.

JAKE: You just fell out of the sky, dirk!!  
JAKE: I managed to catch you and bring you back here, to hell with the damn sburban whatzit.  
JAKE: I tried to tell jane and roxy but havent heard hide nor hair of them,  
JAKE: I let rose and the others know that we werent going to be able to help them but i couldnt tell them anything more than that because i had no clue what the dickens was going on.  
JAKE: You just up and collapsed on me!  
JAKE: There we were, moseying up to a real humdinger of a makeout session,  
JAKE: (One for the books if i do say so myself)  
JAKE: Then the next thing i know youre dropping like a lead balloon tied to an elephant!  
JAKE: I thought something bad might have happened to you.  
JAKE: Its okay if you dont know what it was yourself, im not hopping mad or anything,  
JAKE: Its just that ive never seen you like that before.  
DIRK: I...  
DIRK: I think I remembered something.  
DIRK: Something awful.  
JAKE: Something you forgot?  
DIRK: ...  
DIRK: Maybe.  
DIRK: Some of it felt that way, at least.  
DIRK: Events that I'd lost because holding onto them was too dangerous.  
DIRK: But...  
DIRK: I was remembering some things which I know I've never seen before.  
DIRK: Events which haven't even taken place.  
DIRK: It was like when were in that white space, only more vivid.  
DIRK: I think,  
DIRK: They were memories from my splinters.  
JAKE: You mean, from the AR and brain ghost dirk?  
DIRK: I...  
DIRK: Maybe?  
DIRK: I remember dying.  
DIRK: Before we entered our session, when we--  
DIRK: When I made you kiss me.  
JAKE: ...  
DIRK: But there were other things I saw, other memories which I don't even remember having in the first place.  
DIRK: I guess they were from a doomed timeline.  
DIRK: I think I had talked myself into the idea that the whole Remem8er thing was an experience I just wasn't going to have.  
DIRK: Honestly it was a relief.  
DIRK: I've dealt with enough versions of myself to last both our lifetimes.  
DIRK: An expression which incidentally has lost some of its gravitas on account of us being basically fucking immortals.  
DIRK: I think something about the sheer weight of the thing just knocked me the fuck out.  
DIRK: It was just...  
DIRK: Horrible.  
DIRK: And I think something about me being a Heart player made the impact of all those things that much more physical.  
DIRK: It wasn't just that I remembered all of those things, but I almost began to relive them.  
DIRK: I had been feeling it coming for a while but didn't really know what it was.  
DIRK: Today must just have been the final moment of tension before everything snapped back into alignment.  
DIRK: Sure as fuck took long enough.

You've been talking to the ceiling, too anxious to make eye contact. Just thinking about that nightmarish memory is making you feel sweaty and sick; you twist the bedsheets beneath you with your fingers in discomfort. The weight in your chest is unbearable. But now you look at him, and it somehow surprises you to see him looking right at you, even now his eyes seeming to radiate something that makes your insides tingle.

JAKE: I remember.  
JAKE: I think i told you about that one before, the session where everything went bellyup before we knew what was happening.  
JAKE: Jane and i, we both died and lived in a bubble for a while, but we never saw you or roxy there.   
JAKE: I think we just assumed that you were both busy saving everything, as usual.  
JAKE: We never saw what happened to you.  
JAKE: Its...  
JAKE: Dirk,  
JAKE: ...  
JAKE: Its okay.  
JAKE: That timeline is gone now.  
JAKE: We WON, remember??  
JAKE: We dont ever have to think about them again!   
JAKE: Youre safe here, Im safe here, we took care of that big ugly brute and were finally getting the chance to settle up in paradiso with nary a care in the world!  
JAKE: Hard though i know it is for you to accept.  
JAKE: I guess id assumed that youd take it all in your stride.  
JAKE: (Ugh, sorry.)  
JAKE: Especially since its been so long.  
JAKE: And it didnt even happen to YOU!  
JAKE: That was just another version of you that you didnt even know about at the time!  
JAKE: You take enough responsibility for things outside of your wheelhouse without having to go all mea culpa about some other timeline you never had any part in.  
DIRK: But even so.  
DIRK: It was still me that was doing it.  
DIRK: It felt so real. It WAS real.  
DIRK: I remember exactly what it felt like. And the terrible thing wasn't so much the experience itself, it was that I still felt exactly the same about it.  
DIRK: Me, right here and now, feels exactly the same about the situation as the version of me that actually lived it.  
DIRK: And he...  
DIRK: He hurt himself.  
DIRK: Or let himself be hurt.  
DIRK: He just let go of everything and fell completely apart.  
DIRK: And it's just fucking with me because I know that if I were in his shoes right now, I'd still do exactly the same thing.  
DIRK: I think I would, anyway, it's impossible to be sure.  
DIRK: Thank fucking god.  
DIRK: But what he did was something that I've thought about a lot before.  
DIRK: Sixteen years is a long time to spend alone, with nobody but yourself to talk to.  
DIRK: And just,  
DIRK: Reliving what he went through?  
DIRK: It made me remember all of those times I'd considered...  
DIRK: ...  
JAKE: ...  
DIRK: Ugh, I'm sorry.  
DIRK: This is just the absolute shittiest thing to talk about.  
DIRK: At least when Dave and I were talking about his bro I had the distance of a whole other alternate universe to put between the two of us.  
DIRK: Even if I did completely accept that he was just another expression of the Ultimate Essence of my soul or whatever.  
DIRK: This is just...  
DIRK: It's like I *am* that version of myself now.  
DIRK: And not just him, but all of them at once.  
DIRK: And just I don't know what to do with that information.  
DIRK: ...  
DIRK: What was it like for you?  
JAKE: Well, er...  
JAKE: Hum.

He knows you're changing the subject, and you're very grateful that he goes with it.

He thinks for a while, brow furrowing ever so slightly. He's moved to lie beside you now—his hand has been idly stroking your arm while you've been talking. It's a soothing gesture. Maybe it's because of what you saw, but just knowing that he's here and that he's okay is definitely making you feel more at ease. You feel your muscles relax as he gently rubs at your arm, moving slowly up towards your shoulder.

JAKE: For me, when the timelines just up and fused like that, it felt like...  
JAKE: Like I was suddenly full of so much potential.  
JAKE: As though everything that id ever wanted to do, but never had,  
JAKE: And everything i didnt ever really feel capable of in the first place...  
JAKE: It suddenly felt like i had got past it somehow.  
JAKE: Not that all of my problems were solved, i think weve demonstrated that as good as gravy.  
JAKE: Looking back on the memories i do still remember from those other lives, it sure as hell doesnt look like i was in the habit of doing much in the way of important stuff to start with, at least not on my own.  
JAKE: I think its fair to say that i was the runt of our litter at every turn, and then the bigger runt of the even BIGGER litter that came about when grandma jade and the others arrived.  
JAKE: I was a joke!  
JAKE: Perhaps even the vastest joke of them all!!  
JAKE: A lot of people were quick off the line to point THAT one out, and maybe they were right.  
JAKE: It certainly threw me for a loop at the time.  
JAKE: It went from everyone and their uncle falling arse over teakettle to mosey up to me, or to the adventurous soul i guess they mustve believed was me in some way,  
JAKE: (Even though i was beginning to understand that it was all a lie deep down.)  
JAKE: To suddenly everyone and anyone being willing to chime in with just how useless and pathetic a person they thought i was.  
JAKE: And the rub of it was that in that moment its what i WANTED to hear.  
JAKE: Especially after you broke up with me and i had to face the music viz a viz the way id royally buggered up my friendships with you and the gals.  
JAKE: I wanted to just lay me down in the dirt and believe that i was someone who just wasnt capable of those kinds of things.  
JAKE: Capable of ANYTHING.  
JAKE: Of being a good friend or a good boyfriend or anything apart from an anachronistic heartthrob in revealing undies.  
DIRK: They were pretty fuckin' sweet undies though.  
JAKE: They chafed like nothing else!!  
DIRK: You didn't have to keep 'em on.  
JAKE: Oh stop it!!!!!!  
DIRK: Heh.  
JAKE: But then like every other cockamamie fantasy id entertained up until that point, it actually happened!  
JAKE: I got my stupid wish, and some blue lady from another dimension showed up to call me an idiot.  
DIRK: A...what?  
JAKE: Vriska.  
DIRK: Oh. It was a Vriska thing, right.  
JAKE: Yeah.  
JAKE: At least now i can appreciate the irony of it.  
JAKE: But at the time it was just the latest in a long line of wishes that id made.  
JAKE: Things i thought i wanted at the time but which actually turned out to nothing at all like what id imagined.  
JAKE: And a lot of it was just friggin awful.  
JAKE: I had kinda made my peace with the whole thing after the game was over and we zapped into the future to set up shop on earth mark three.  
JAKE: But then after we went through that door and i remembered all of those other parts of me i think i could finally put a name on what the connection was.   
JAKE: Im still working a lot of it out, but...  
JAKE: I think my powers are supposed to be something that benefits other people.  
JAKE: And seeing all the times id failed to see that, and then realizing that i understood it, made me feel like i could do anything.  
JAKE: Because i finally saw that id been making a choice over and over again and thinking that it was just the way things were for me.  
JAKE: It made me feel better because i could see how far past that id come.  
JAKE: I dunno, maybe its a Hopey thing.  
DIRK: That...  
DIRK: Does sound like a fuckin' Hopey thing, yeah.  
JAKE: But if you feel like all of those other selves have BECOME you in a way that hasnt happened for me or the others then i wouldnt be at all flummoxed by it frankly.  
JAKE: It might at least explain what the devils going on with your neck, at any rate.  
DIRK: Wait.  
DIRK: My what?

He taps the side of his throat, about halfway up. You move to touch the same spot, before you realize the place he's pointing to. The mark from this morning.

JAKE: Thats one devilish rash youve got there!  
JAKE: Its been red and raw that the whole time youve been out cold.  
JAKE: At the time i had no idea where it came from, but...  
JAKE: Dont you think you remembering this stuff has something to do with it?  
DIRK: Maybe.  
DIRK: I mean, I can't think of what else it could be.  
DIRK: And now that you mention it, when you touched it earlier, that was the moment that I remembered our entry into the session.  
DIRK: Huh.  
JAKE: Does it hurt?  
DIRK: ...  
DIRK: No, not hurt exactly.  
DIRK: The memory hurts, but the feeling is actually...  
DIRK: ...  
JAKE: ...?

You feel your face begin to heat up.

DIRK: It was nice.

* * *

Sometime later, as the last of the sun's beams begins to hang forlornly in the air, the distance between you becomes too much.

You start off slowly, swapping spit and sentiments in a mingled concoction of gestures, pulling patiently at the corners of one another as you twine inward. A sniff, a sigh, the brush of eyelashes against a cheek. Your hands paw at his shirt in a noncommittal sort of way, just brushing against the fabric; his hand rests lightly against your side, one knuckle rubbing small, lazy circles into your back.

As that warmth begins to fill your body you finally catch him and pull him over, and he obligingly rolls around to rest his weight on top of you. There's something about the gentle crushing feeling that turns you on enormously: the breathlessness that it brings on only adding to the anticipation, a sense of eagerness and longing that's slowly, slowly starting to bubble, as water over a low flame flirtatiously approaches the boil. And as it fills your chest, the comforting weight of him pressing down allows the pressure to build.

It flows out from your torso: to your head, yes, your arms, yes, but most noticeably it worms its way down. It sloshes down between your legs, heat and strain coming in waves as you tense, relax, and tense again. You were already hard the moment he lay next to you, it wasn't like it was a conscious thing, but now you can feel it gently throb as it rubs against your boxers, against your pants, against his shorts against his boxers against his cock.

The pleasure intensifies as you follow that train of thought to its tip, your breaths becoming hitched as your hips move in harmony and you picture him, picture his dick wet and warm and rubbing against you. Jake now has his arms up by your head, elbows resting by your shoulders and fingers running through your hair, and he's breathing loudly through his nose and rocking forwards against you; all the while your mouths murmur against one another, exchanging idle pleasantries for more outright filthiness, playing with teeth and licking tongues and sweet saliva.

And the heat and heaviness is building, beginning to break against you in earnest now as your bodies start to rock together. The movement is no longer just a grinding of hips: your chests and your arms and heads all take up that rhythm, your kisses and touches rolling into one another in a back and forth of breaths and sighs and ever more desperate wandering hands. Barely has one motion ended but another takes its place, there are no lulls in your desires now, only growing, engorging, ever mounting hotness. Your cock is winking with one eye, poking out from beneath your pants—if you strain you can see his just beginning to free itself too, and the mere thought of it makes you near burst with lust.

He must feel something similar because in a moment he breaks away, falls backwards to fumble with his fly, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts and pulling in one fast motion, underwear and all dropping down beside the bed. You barely have enough time to sneak one filthy glance down at him before he's grabbing your hips, lifting them up and unbuttoning them. You arch your back and raise your arms to rest beside your head, deliberately exposing the skin beneath your tank top to tell him how much you want this, how you need it. Need him.

And then you're free and your waist lands back on the bed with a bounce, your dick slapping against your stomach--you can see him entirely now, that gorgeous thick cock of his which he brings back to rub against your own, and he stays upright for a few moments to hungrily devour the spectacle before falling down onto you again.

JAKE: Flipping christ dirk.

He's talking without thinking between kisses, vocalizing with breathy nonsense out of pure horniness. You cut him off again by pulling his mouth back to meet yours, locking your arms behind his neck. He's lying almost completely on top of you now, pressing down hard, and the crushing sensation is doing something indescribable to your brain and your dick. Your legs have come up around him and crossed behind his back, encasing him inside you. His hands have been up by your head for a while but now you need them on your skin, you have to feel him feeling you right now—you can barely think at all, let alone talk, and so you just grab his wrists and slap his hands down onto your shoulders.

DIRK: Jake--  
DIRK: Please. 

And he immediately obliges, beginning to rub your shoulders and chest, rubbing thumbs over your nipples and pressing down against your ribs. He's pulling and pressing and stretching you with his touch and his weight, squeezing you out of yourself and then drinking you out of your mouth. You're falling to pieces under him and it's almost more than you can bear. His hands hold your wrists now and pull them up above your head, then skate down the full length of your arms and inwards towards your neck.

_A box. Darkness. Jake. Darkness._

_And then light._

He's holding your neck and kissing you, and a heart-string seems to sing with happiness as the memory returns. A memory that's like light filling you up until you're about to explode.

(JAKE): I had wanted to kiss you for so long dirk.  
(JAKE): Id imagined it so many times.  
(JAKE): You didnt make me do it, even if i had no choice.  
(JAKE): (I had no choice because it was all i wanted.)

He's rubbing a thumb over your throat as he kisses you, and the hitch in your breath somehow makes you harder—you push up at him and whimper with pleasure at the friction. As he presses down a little harder it's as though the blood in your body gets hotter: your heart is beating ferociously and your head and your cock are throbbing with the force of it.

He seems to understand your desperation—without letting go of your neck he pulls himself upright and grabs your dick with his other hand, stroking it and squeezing you at the same time. Your head rolls backwards in pleasure as he pins you like this, your spine curling up towards him. He pulls your foreskin down and back up, rubbing your head with his thumb in a circle and then the whole palm of his hand in one fluid motion.

You're starting to phase in and out, the cloudy feeling in your head coming in waves now, all while you buck and squirm under the constant throbbing pleasure. And he's still rubbing against you, his warm cock sawing against your leg and your balls and your perineum, and your mouth opens with a ragged gasp for breath as you imagine him filling you up, your body giving way to him and the feeling of him fucking you. Your vision is turning to a haze of purple and orange, there's a ringing in your ears, and all of a sudden the tension rises rapidly and you come apart in an instant.

_(For a moment you are just a head, suspended by his touch. His lips gently move in circles with yours, your blood mingling with his spit, and you welcome that little death as happy as you've ever been.)_

What little air you have left leaves you in an involuntary cry, and his hands hold your pulsing neck and cock as you shake with the force of your orgasm. Your legs grip tight against his back as your whole body bends and quivers, and hot white cum spurts out from you in little jumps, dribbling over his fingers and landing in warm droplets on your belly.

His hands leaves your neck. You twitch gently in the slow, ebbing tide of pleasure moving out again. You shift up on the bed to look back at him, and he's just staring down at you with a look of unmistakable hunger.

JAKE: Holy shitting hell, dirk.  
JAKE: Ive never seen you come quite like that before.  
JAKE: Its enough to make a person loopy, the way you were moaning and begging for it.

He's still hard as anything, his cock plowing shallow divots in your skin and swilling in your cum. Just seeing how turned on he is starting to make your gradually softening penis firm up again. God he's so fucking hot. You idly lick your lips while gazing at him, and maybe it gives him an idea, because he smirks and begins to shift out from between your legs.

DIRK: What are you--  
JAKE: Dirk.  
JAKE: Im going to fuck you in the mouth.

You clam up instantly, and a bright flash of delight in his eyes means that he knows. He knows what it does to you when he says what he wants, what he's going to do to you. He knows you love it when he bosses you around like that. And now that he does, you're doomed forever.

DIRK: Please--  
DIRK: Ugh, fuck.  
JAKE: Shh...

He shifts around you on his knees, coming alongside before swinging one leg over you. You back up a little, reaching to prop up a pillow between your head and the wall, then you lie back and he shimmies forward so that he's sitting on your chest with your head between his thighs.

It's warm and soft. The hair on his legs brush gently against you as you wiggle a little closer to him, breathing in the smell of his dick and balls and sweat and the faint film of your cum that's still sticking to him. He leans his torso over you, propping himself up with one arm against the wall, playing with himself a little as you get into position.

You look up at him then, your eyes filled with a desire that's been growing inside of you since earlier today, when you were gazing at him after your shower. You want to pop him into your mouth now more than anything. And he obliges.

Your lips close around the gentle curve of his head and he lets out a low moan. As you lick slowly with your tongue you taste yourself on him, a tang of bitterness on top of the warm sweet flavor of his precum. You squeeze him a little tighter and gently ease the foreskin off of the tip, and his hips roll ever so slightly as you push him further into your mouth. Your eyes have drifted shut while you bask in the sensation of him inside you, one hand lazily rubbing at yourself without really thinking. As you suckle on him and wet the tip with your tongue his head lolls back for a moment.

JAKE: A-ah, fuck.  
JAKE: Mmm that's--  
JAKE: Hahh.

The force of him weighing down on your chest is beckoning back that hot heady feeling, and the thickness filling your mouth is so exquisite you may as well be dreaming. You pull back off him for a second, sucking at the back of your mouth and tongue to draw out more spit, and then open wide and lick his length all the way down. He groans in appreciation and you can't help but smile—being messy always seems to turn him on even more.

He's not enormously long, and so you don't have much trouble getting most of him in your mouth at this angle. The black hair running down his abdomen and fanning out around his groin tickles your nose as he bucks his hips forwards again. You let your tongue rest flat against the bottom of your mouth, and then he picks up a bit of speed and begins rutting into you in earnest. His thighs begin to squash your cheeks inwards, your head getting warmer and fuzzier with every motion. He's breathing heavily and moaning with increasing urgency, and you let your eyes open and strain to look up at him.

He's a heavenly sight. He's looking down at you and grinning devilishly, his glasses slipping a little down his nose from the sweat that's pricking on his face in little beads. His broad shoulders are a canopy above you rising up from his thick torso and his wide chest curled with hair—his soft belly squishing and stretching as he pushes into you and pulls out again.

At this point he's fucking you with determination. You feel yourself relax as you focus on the heat of his cock, the taste of his precum, the sound of the bed rocking. For a moment your skull becomes just a thing, a toy for him to use, and he grips it tighter with his free hand and runs his fingers through your hair. You're rubbing yourself quickly now, the dull ache of pleasure building back up again, tinged with aftertaste of the orgasm you already had. He rocks faster, and faster, and you suck on him hard this time, squeezing around his cock with your lips as he pushes back in. The pressure in your chest feels like it's going to pull you apart now, like you're spreading out ready to shatter into a thousand pieces.

_(You see him, a sword standing like a cross straight through the breast. You feel your lungs creak and strain under the cloying clog of the swarming black and gray, and you finally let yourself break: into pieces, into shards, into dust, into atoms, into nothing.)_

JAKE: Dirk, im--  
JAKE: Close, im--  
JAKE: AH FUCK!

You come together this time, hard and shaking with pleasure. With one last desperate push he buries himself deep into your mouth with a cry, and as he twitches there you feel hot fluid seem to burst from him. It pools warm and bitter in your mouth: it's an acquired taste, but one you acquired long ago. You let it sit there for a few delicious moments as the pleasure subsides, before tilting your head back and swallowing him whole.

He looks exhausted from the effort, sweat dripping off his forehead and glazing his legs. His eyes are bright and burning as they look down at you. Without breaking his gaze you let your mouth fall open, and his quickly softening dick flops out of you with a loud, wet slap.

You're both breathing hard, just looking into each other's eyes in the dim light. But there's light enough.

That night, as you fall quietly into dreaming, you feel that weight in you seem to settle, warm and familiar at last. And perhaps you smile at that, face tucked into his chest. Perhaps.

* * *

 

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] \--

TT: The Marquise sends her regards.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] \--


End file.
